Four Leaf Lover
by M and M Works
Summary: What's St. Patrick's Day without a little P/Jo lovin?


**A/N:** **Happy St Patrick's Day!** You know the drill - this one-parter is like the others, just a little bit of light and fluffy holiday nookie. None of these holiday fics are related to the other; the only common denominator is nookie, P/Jo, and sometimes that apron may feature – hee hee! This one is set in the future, sometime after the season finale. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: We do not own the images and credit to the website for providing inspiration with the jokes.

******** ****Four Leaf Lover**********  
****by M&M Works**

"_May you have warm words on a cold evening,  
a full moon on a dark night, and the road downhill all the way to your door."  
~ Traditional Irish Blessing_

"_To Jen!_"

The four of us raise our drinks as one and clink them together in salute. After a healthy gulp, I place my glass back on the table and wrap my arm once more around Joey's shoulders and pull her in close. I feel her nuzzle against my neck before burrowing her head in the crook of my shoulder.

She takes a deep - albeit slightly inebriated sigh - and I know that, just like mine, her thoughts are with Jen. And how very much we'd all like her here, with us, right now.

After a few minutes of silence, where the only noise is the random cheers and laughter from the other patrons in the busy bar married with the music of the jukebox, I hear a throat being cleared.

"Ever wondered why you shouldn't borrow money from a leprechaun?" Doug asks, looking first to his side to Jack and then over to Joey and me to see if he has any takers.

Thankful that my brother has taken it upon himself to lighten the mood, even if it's at the expense of experiencing his bad sense of humor, I offer, "Can't say that it keeps me up at night, Dougie, but I'll bite."

I gesture with my free arm for him to come out with it.

"Because," he pauses to create the perfect comedic effect. "They are always a little short."

The jerky movement against my arm indicates that Joey is laughing despite herself, and I can't help but snigger, too, at Doug's proud grin.

"Doug," Jack groans and drops his head. "You know, it's lucky that you're so good looking."

"Hey!" I hold up my palm and rush to my brother's defense. "No luck about it! We Witters are blessed with good genes." I flash my own proud – and if I do say so myself, _sexy_ - grin to empathize my point.

"Well… you had to have _something_ going for you." Joey deadpans pragmatically. "It _is_ only fair."

"What's that, Potter?" I turn to look at her and cup my ear as though I haven't heard her properly. "Only fair, huh?"

I strategically shift my arm from her shoulder to her waist. "I'll show you fair."

And, with that, I commence a tickle assault.

Joey erupts into a fit of giggles as I continue my onslaught. It's only when I hear her breathy cry of "Uncle" that I stop. She pulls back from my embrace; the combination of her managing to wobble while seated and the lack of force in the punch she delivers me in protest of my playful attack has me thinking that perhaps Miss Potter is a little more than _slightly_ inebriated.

"Oh!" She suddenly sits up straight in her chair and slaps her hand down on the table, her face morphing from mirth to complete seriousness. "I've got one!"

I rub my chin and try to stifle a laugh. It's hard work; she looks so damn cute when she's drunk.

"O-_kay_. Care to share?" Jack asks, smiling himself.

She nods once and, making sure she has everyone's full and undivided attention, asks, "Why shouldn't you iron a shamrock?"

For some reason her voice has dropped to a mere whisper as though it was some top government secret.

"I don't know, Jo." I reply slowly, playing along. "Why shouldn't you?"

"Because…," she slurs. "You don't want to press your luck!"

Her face breaks into one of my favorite smiles, a full toothy grin with only the tip of her tongue visible.

"Get it?" She frowns when no one laughs, her head whipping to look at me then facing forward toward Jack and Doug on the other side of the table. "Press your luck? An iron…? Pressing…?"

I shake my head when she's not looking and pick up my Guinness, using the pretense of taking a sip to cover my laughter - not at the joke but at the delight that is a drunken Joey. When I see her shoulders drop, obviously worried that perhaps we _didn't_ get the joke and appreciate its full and utter wonder, I rub her back in both a soothing and congratulatory gesture. She turns her head back to me and I kiss her forehead lovingly. "Yes, Potter. We get it."

"Really?" She pouts, her voice unsure.

"Really." I reassure.

"Okay!" She beams brightly and picks up her own drink, a fruity concoction bearing a provocative name. As she pulls the straw firmly into her mouth by wrapping her tongue around it and raises her chocolate orbs to look me deeply in the eye I can't help but let my thoughts shift to the name of her drink and just how I'd like to find me a beach right about now.

Did I say earlier that she looked damn cute when she's drunk? Let me rephrase that. She looks drop-dead gorgeous.

"Havin' a good time, Potter?" My tone is carefree but the force behind my eyes is anything but as I lick my lips, wishing that I could be that straw between hers.

"Um-hm." She nods, her eyes tracing across my face to finally land on my mouth. She releases the straw with an audible pop. "You?"

"Um-hm." I glance quickly at Jack and Doug but they are deep in their own conversation.

Suddenly, it's my turn to shoot straight up in my chair - for in the brief moment it took to glance away from her, Joey has managed two things. First, her tongue is in my ear. And, second, her hand is massaging my lower back - in the exact spot she knows that never fails to turn me on.

"How about… now?" She whispers hotly, causing me to suppress a shiver, her breath tickling. "Still having a good time?"

I feel my pulse rate increase and my jeans start to become tight. "H'er-" I clear my throat and try again, "I think it's safe to say I'm having a _great_ time."

"Sure?"

I lick my lips and nod my confirmation.

Joey moves away from my ear but keeps one hand rubbing my back, using slow, hypnotic circles. I watch helplessly as she picks up her cocktail glass once more. Yet, instead of taking a sip, with a flick of the wrist she spills some on her – the action so sure, if I didn't know otherwise, I'd say it was deliberate. My eyes snap and swing direction, becoming fused to the peach colored liquid as it beads together to form a mini river, traveling down her neck into the valley formed by her cleavage.

I have _never_ loved that dress she's wearing tonight as much as I do right now.

"Oops." She breathes out.

That sexy hitch to her voice ignites me.

I'm instantly hard.

Still in my trance I remain perfectly still, the only movement the heavy rise and fall of my own chest, as she leans in and presents herself to me.

"Clean me up?" She asks suggestively.

"Everything okay there, little brother?"

And, just like that, _Doug's_ voice acts as a cold bucket of water.

"Wha? Um, h'er, yeah. Yeah. Joey here just had a little accident, is all." I manage to offer up an excuse, although I can tell from Doug's meaningful look and accompanied smile that he knows better.

I grab an over-sized, dark green napkin from the pile on the table - the color, I'm told, specially laid out today by the owners in honor of St. Paddy's - and begin to carefully mop up Joey's chest. She pouts at first but, as soon as she sees the napkin, for some reason she lifts her lips.

"Pacey?"

"Yeah, Jo?" I ask distractedly, trying to get the worse of the liquid dried up before it stains her dress. My reasons are purely selfish; I _really_ like this dress.

"Nice napkin. It's almost big enough to be an apron, isn't it?"

"Wha-?" I whip my eyes up to hers questioningly, following them as she focuses on the dark green paper in my hands.

She had to bring up the apron… now? In front of Doug and Jack?!

I can't help it. As though I'm one of Pavlov's dogs, the mere mention of our apron is all the conditioning I need and I become hard again. If possible, I'm even harder than a few minutes ago.

"What was that about an apron?" Doug asks, his voice rising at the end signaling the prospect of laughter.

I feel my cheeks burn, and I chew on the inside of my cheek, knowing that he is only asking as the sixth sense – the one that siblings have when their brother or sister is about to get mortally embarrassed - has kicked in and he can't resist the thrill of the tease.

I pretend as though I haven't heard him and focus all my attention on Joey's cleanup since her hands are occupied elsewhere - specifically, recommencing my lower back massage.

From the corner of my eye I see Doug about to press the issue, but then Jack pipes up, "Y'know what I wanna know?"

My hand falls away from Joey. I ball up the napkin and throw it carelessly to the table. I know I can't take the both of them. Resistance is futile so, like a man on death row, I wait for Jack to finish his question.

After a moment he speaks. "If a man can't count… and he finds a four-leaf clover… then, is he lucky?"

The complete sincerity, with which Jack asks this, as though it's a life or death question, causes Doug to immediately switch his attention to ponder it with the same gravity.

I'm only listening half-heartedly to Doug's analysis; I take the opportunity of a break in his drone to nod my chin in thanks to Jack for redirecting the conversation. He negligibly tips his beer in acknowledgement and then gives Doug his full attention.

"Paaaa-ceeeey?" Joey calls my name again, this time using her sing-song voice. "You didn't answer my question."

I look at her as if she's crazy, but the teasing grin she gives me tells me everything. She knows _exactly_ what she's doing and the trouble she's trying to cause.

The little minx.

Shaking my head, I smile and lean in to whisper in her ear. "Hussy."

Then, before she can say another word, I stand up, pulling her along with me. Dressing her into her light coat, I announce loudly to the boys, "Say 'goodnight', Potter."

"Goodnight, Potter." She parrots back, poking her tongue out at me when I roll my eyes.

Jack and Doug pause their conversation long enough to glance our way and we wave our goodbyes, promising to meet up again soon.

The cool, spring air greets Joey and me as we emerge from the bar and head out into the night. Sliding my arm around Joey's narrow waist I stroke my thumb along her side and kiss her hair affectionately. "You, my dear, will pay for that."

"Promise?"

I raise my brows and state the obvious. "You're drunk."

She doesn't deny it but instead tries to deflect the accusation in true Potter fashion. "It's all your fault."

I laugh good-naturedly at this fabrication. "Is that so?"

"Yep." She states emphatically.

"Y'sure it wasn't all those drinks you had tonight?"

"_Yummy_ drinks." She corrects me eloquently.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Ivy League-educated – you sure it wasn't all those _yummy_ drinks ya had tonight?"

"Nope." She sighs and leans her full weight against me. "Can I help it when you wear that green shirt?"

I frown and look down to my top in confusion. "What? This old thing?"

She pulls us to an abrupt stop and turns to face me. "You have no idea what it does to me."

And with that comment she yanks me hard by the material of my shirt and crashes her lips to mine.

I lift both hands in the air in playful surrender; then happily give myself over to her kisses, moaning as she nibbles and sucks and teases, setting me alight. I breathe in her scent as she pushes her body firmly against mine and wraps her arms tightly around my neck. I love the way she tunnels her hands through my hair and tugs hard, the pure passion of the action only fueling my inner fire further, and I return with my own answering fervor.

Our tongues battle against each other and I groan, pressing my lips harder against hers and drink her in. Traces of the fruity drink still present in her mouth have me moaning even louder.

God, I love this woman.

This beautiful, passionate, spontaneous, drunken…. the last thought drags me reluctantly back to reality and the fact that we are in the middle of the street in the throes of a very public display of affection. And, knowing Miss Potter like no one else, I'm pretty sure that if it weren't for her current state of drunkenness she wouldn't be so pleased about that.

"Jo…," I repeatedly call her name – softly, but firmly - trying to detach her from my embrace is like trying to remove a monkey clinging to a tree.

"Pacey," she complains through kisses.

"Jo, let's go home." I urge, endeavoring to be the gentleman here. "We can continue this there. I promise."

She shakes her head. "No. _Now_."

"Joey," I try to make her listen to reason. "Look, sweetheart, as much as I'd love to take you up on that - and _believe_ me, I would - you and I both know that if ya weren't drunk right now then-"

"Wait. Who says I'm drunk?" she interrupts.

I give her my best 'who-are-you-trying-to-kid' look.

"No, seriously." She stands up tall and licks her lips. "Do I _look _drunk right now?"

My knee-jerk reaction is say that of course she does based her on behavior in the bar, but the gleam in her eye causes me to hesitate. I look her up and down, slowly, studying her carefully.

When I don't answer, she smiles proudly, saying, "Gotcha, didn't I?"

I point my finger at her. "But earlier? You were?"

She shakes her head.

"You weren't."

She nods.

"You _meant_ to spill your drink?"

Another nod.

My mouth drops. Then a slow smile evades my face. "Nicely played, Potter. Nicely played."

"Why, thank you." She pulls me to her once more. "Aren't ya glad I didn't make you carry me this time?"

"Very," I concur. "But why the drunken act?"

She shrugs one shoulder. "Figured it was the quickest way to get you to leave. Like I said, that top of yours. Does crazy things to me." Then she reaches into the pocket of her coat and pulls something out. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust in the dim light to see what it is. "Kinda like what an apron does to you, my love."

She must have grabbed a clean one on the way out. She takes the large, over-sized, dark green napkin and playfully wraps it around her waist, tilting her head to the side and then winks.

I don't even try to prevent the low growl that erupts from deep within me and I jerk her roughly into my arms. My lips bruise hers enthusiastically, yet not painfully. I walk us back a few steps into an alcove to one of the buildings, far from any prying eyes, her back pressed up against the brick wall.

I deliver kiss after kiss, one merging into another, endlessly. The sudden need to taste her skin is the only thing that drags my lips away from hers, that and the need to hear her cry out.

I brush my lips past her chin and work my way down her neck targeting her cleavage; tickling and teasing as I alternate from sharp nips to cool blows of air soothing the sting, I lick up the remnants of her cocktail-laced skin. I'm rewarded with a sexy cry of my name as Joey's fingers attach themselves to my hair, clinging to me and holding me closer.

Wanting, _needing_, more, I tilt my hips and drive them forward to let them start their own dance. Then it's my turn to shout her name as I feel the pressure in my groin alleviated ever so slightly by her returning press and the heat from her body.

The lights from a passing car clear the fog of passion from my mind and I drag my lips away. "Jo," I pant. "Maybe we should-"

"No," she pleads, breathing just as hard. "_Please_, Pace."

I fix my eyes to hers, asking without words if she is sure. Ever since Jen died and we've been back together, I've noticed that Joey has taken more risks, especially sexually - wanting to live in the moment, letting "other Joey" come out to play more than ever before.

But I need to be sure that this is really what she wants. Only when I'm certain do I nod and tug her hand to draw her further into the alcove. It's shaped such that to one side it goes back in on itself to create an entirely hidden area, dark all but for the low light emanating from the full moon.

Once more, I turn her and press her back against the wall. I lift the hand I'm holding to my lips and kiss it.

"Do you know how much I completely and utterly love you, Jo?"

She nods that she does and reaches up with her other hand to caress my cheek causing me to close my eyes.

"It's just as much as I love you, Pace."

I continue to whisper kisses across her pulse points, and she lets me - knowing that I need this time to rejoice in the knowledge that she is in my life, that it's not a dream – for no doubt she herself is feeling the same emotions.

I honestly don't know what I've ever done to deserve her in my life, to be given yet another chance at paradise, but I'm not going to question it. Instead, I pray that I'll never take it for granted.

I consider myself one hell of a lucky guy that _I_ get to be the one that wakes up to see her smiling face every morning. The guy that gets to watch her sleep. The shoulder she leans on when she's sad. The person to which she turns.

To be in love with my best friend.

Smiling as she calls out my name, I open my eyes and see her own face light up.

"Guess what?" She asks me, using her teeth to toy with her lower lip. "I'm not wearing any underwear." She waggles her eyebrows.

"Reeeealllly," I enthuse before going on to quip, "Laundry day, huh?"

"Try again."

"Wanted added ventilation?"

"Nuh-uh."

I tilt my head to one side. "Aren't you feelin' a little cold?"

"Well… I _was_ hoping you could do something about that."

Her voice is confident, sure. No tucking of hair behind her ears, either. It's only the slight rouge tint to her cheeks as they fill with color that gives her away, her prudish nature still alive and kicking even after all these years.

And its presence only makes her all the more endearing to me.

The question is rhetorical and needs no words; instead I answer her with a kiss, telling her with my lips, my tongue, my hands that she can always count on me.

She's safe in my arms.

I start to tug her dress up her legs when I feel the urgency in her movements as she drags her nails down my back.

"Up," I command and lift her into my arms. "Legs. Wrap them. Around me."

She immediately does as I request then brings her hands between us to release me from my jeans.

"Faster, Jo," I urge.

She nods and whimpers, fighting with the buckle of my belt before successfully pulling down the zipper. She then shoves the denim past my hips and I gladly let it fall away and sink to my ankles.

"Huh," she remarks. "Looks like I wasn't the only one who decided to go commando tonight. Hoping to get lucky, were we?"

"You know it."

I give her my best shit-eating grin and feel my heart soar as her sweet laughter fills the air.

Using the power of her legs alone, she pulls me to her and I feel her heels jab my ass; we both groan out loud and I let my eyes briefly roll to the back of my head as I feel her liquid heat. Naked skin against skin at last. Instinct and love drives us as our bodies move in sync - rocking, rotating, riding.

God, she is so wet.

So tight.

So hot.

So mine.

My eyes drop to watch where we move against each other; there's hardly any light in our secret hideaway but I can see enough and I feel myself fill even more at the sight. I continue to tease and slide along her, waiting for the stutter in the moan and watching for the flutter in her eyes, the signals that tell me she is ready.

A ribbon of moonlight bathes her face, creating the effect of diamonds in her eyes.

She is so beautiful.

I don't have to wait long for my signs. I raise one eyebrow in question, and she confirms with a nod.

With one forward thrust, I hit home and sink all the way in. I dig my nails into her waist as I feel every part of her against me as I slide deep inside. Knowing that if I don't I'll cry out much too loudly, I drop my head to her neck and press my mouth against the skin there, suppressing a huge groan. But I'm unable to hold back my shudder as I feel her inner muscles rhythmically spasm on my length as she adjusts to my entrance.

She snakes one hand into my hair and presses her lips to my head, undoubtedly restraining her own moans. When I feel her other hand apply pressure to my lower back, I answer her petition and begin steadily moving in and out.

Over the years, we've perfected this dance of ours. But, no matter how many times or how many different ways, it still feels like the first time to me.

It was always that way with her.

Our bodies may almost go on auto-pilot, knowing just how and where to move in order to make the other soar to ecstasy, for we are that comfortable with each other.

We don't have to think about where to place a hand or arm.

It just happens.

We connect.

Physically.

Emotionally.

We simply follow our hearts.

Therein lies the magic that is Joey Potter to me.

She allows me to be me, accepts me for me, but drives me to want to be the best I can.

She brings out the best in me.

Her sultry pleas moaned directly in my ear - to go harder, faster, deeper - have me grunting and panting as I do as she requests.

I still can't refuse her anything.

Fuck! She feels good.

So damn good.

Her exquisite heat, and the way she expertly clenches me, means it's not long before I feel the telltale tingles.

I'm close.

Since both hands are needed to hold her up, I shift my hips to allow the angle of my pelvis to rock her sweet spot. The effect is instantaneous and she groans into my hair. The trigger of her intense orgasm milks my own from me and I let myself go over the edge.

Magic.

Always magic with her.

Eventually, with shaky arms, I carefully help her to find her feet. After we quickly redress, I pull her close against me, hugging her tightly as I rain kisses on any reachable area.

"Pace?"

"Hmmm?"

"You know something?"

"What's that?"

"I don't need a shamrock."

I pull back and bend slightly in the knees so I can see into her eyes. I brush aside some hair that has gotten in the way and ask her what she means.

"I don't need a shamrock," she explains, "because _you're_ my four leaf clover." She smiles shyly, giving me her crooked grin. "One in a million. Unique. And I'm very lucky to have you."

I feel my chest fill with warmth at her sentiment, smiling to myself at how just earlier I was the one thinking that _I_ was lucky to have _her_.

Great minds think alike.

"I thought I was your good mood pill?"

She frowns but I wait patiently for the light to dawn. When it does, she pinches me playfully and comments, "Do you have to remember _everything_?"

"What?" I shrug. "You never tire of talkin', sweetheart. It's only natural some of it sticks."

I caress her back and smile at the glare that greets me. "So… I'm your good mood pill _and_ your four leaf clover." I pause a heartbeat. "Or should that be four leaf _lover_?"

I smile further at the roll of her eyes.

"Don't make me take it back, Pace," she warns me.

"Never." I hold her tighter. "You're stuck with me, Potter."

"Promise?" She echoes her earlier plea.

Resting my forehead against hers, I reply confidently, never more certain of anything, "Promise."

******** ****THE END**** ********

**Magic by Colbie Caillat**

You've got magic inside your finger tips  
Its leaking out all over my skin  
Everytime that I get close to you  
Your makin me weak with the way you  
Look through those eyes

And all I see is your face  
All I need is your touch  
Wake me up with your lips  
Come at me from up above  
Yeaaaa, oh I need you

I remember the way that you move  
Your dancin easily through my dreams  
Its hittin me harder and harder with all your smiles  
You are crazy gentle in the way you kiss

All I see is your face  
All I need is your touch  
Wake me up with your lips  
Come at me from up above

Oh baby I need you  
To see me, the way I see you  
Lovely, wide awake in  
The middle of my dreams

And all I see is your face  
All I need is your touch  
Wake me up with your lips  
Come at me from up above

All I see is your face  
All I need is your touch  
Wake me up with your lips  
Come at me from up above  
Yeaaaa, oh oh da da da do do do do do  
Ahhhhhh, I ..... I need you

**********


End file.
